


The Best is Yet to Come

by whelvenwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Insecure Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/pseuds/whelvenwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean lay absolutely still on the bed, barely breathing. The room around him was utterly quiet, bare walls gaping like open mouths. I know, Dean told them. I know. It’s crazy.</p><p>Beside him, Cas sighed softly, and buried his head deeper into Dean’s shoulder.</p><p>Crazy.</p><p>Dean had his arm wrapped around Cas’ back, hand resting on the curve of his hip. He pressed his lips together, and tried to breathe normally, but it was as though he’d forgotten how. His heart was slamming in his chest, and he prayed it wouldn’t wake Cas up. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, to make it eternal. Because nothing could ever, ever be this perfect again.<br/>____________________________________________________________________<br/>Dean knows that nothing lasts forever - knows it better than most. Things fall apart, and there's no reason to think that his relationship with Cas will be any different. But Cas has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best is Yet to Come

Dean lay absolutely still on the bed, barely breathing. The room around him was utterly quiet, bare walls gaping like open mouths.  _I know,_ Dean told them.  _I know. It’s crazy._

Beside him, Cas sighed softly, and buried his head deeper into Dean’s shoulder.

_Crazy._

Dean had his arm wrapped around Cas’ back, hand resting on the curve of his hip. He pressed his lips together, and tried to breathe normally, but it was as though he’d forgotten how. His heart was slamming in his chest, and he prayed it wouldn’t wake Cas up. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, to make it eternal. Because nothing could ever, ever be this perfect again.

Cas sighed, and shifted a little more. Dean felt eyelashes flicker against the bare skin of his shoulder.

So, it was over. The most perfect moment in Dean’s life was over. He tried to accept that without bitterness. From here, he knew, it was all downhill. The peak only exists because of the trembling slopes on either side. They’d climbed so far to get here, and now there was only falling back down.

Cas hunched his shoulders slightly, twisting his body so that Dean’s arm shifted further down his back. Too heavy, Dean thought. That would be how it started. Arms too heavy in the morning. Kisses too quick in the night. Spats and anger and weight, all their weight, thundering between them like a rockfall. It was inevitable.

Cas’ head moved; he lifted it, and rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder. When Dean didn’t look at him, Cas shifted and pressed a soft, sensual kiss to the sensitive skin to the side of Dean’s chest - his aching chest, battered since he woke by the hammering of his heart.

“What are you thinking?” Cas murmured, his stubble tickling. Dean sighed, half expecting to hear an old man’s wheeze, a smoker’s lung. He felt cynical and dirty and harsh.

 _I’m thinking about losing you,_ he thought.  _I’m thinking about how we only know how to love each other in the big ways, not the little ones. I’m thinking about how much easier it is to say, ‘I don’t want you to die,’ than to say, ‘I’m sorry for shouting at you about forgetting to buy the milk.’ I’m thinking about how we’re proud and stubborn and difficult. I’m thinking about how we’re going to fall apart._

 _“_ Nothing,” he said, and when Cas tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, he added only, “Just - I like us like this, is all.”

Cas watched him for a few long moments, his eyes smoothing over the lines on Dean’s face as he considered.

“This is good,” Cas said eventually. “But we can do better.”

Dean frowned, flicking his gaze away from Cas and staring up at the ceiling.

“Why?” he asked. The white paint above him was flawed, smudged grey in places and cracked.

“Because,” Cas answered gently, “we didn’t cook spaghetti together yet. Or take the trip to the Grand Canyon. You didn’t read me your favourite book, and I didn’t show you my favourite new sweater. You didn’t teach me how to fix a car, and I didn’t teach you Enochian.” He leaned down again, kissing Dean’s chest, once, twice, making his breath stutter. “There are places on your body that I have never touched. There are things I want to do to you that I have not yet done. I have only drawn from you twelve cries of pleasure, and I want twelve hundred, twelve  _thousand_. And,” he said, his hand running down the length of Dean’s chest, down his stomach, sending sparks over his skin, “you still don’t believe that I will be with you forever. Until that day comes, we can do better.”

Dean leaned up to press a hard kiss to Cas’ lips, brows still drawn low, heart still thundering.

“I’m too much,” Dean muttered against Cas’ mouth, a confession made across the inches of hot breath-space between them.

“So am I,” Cas murmured back, his fingers running back and forth over the silky skin at the top of Dean’s left thigh. “It is nothing to be afraid of.”

Dean looked into his eyes for a long moment, and saw sincerity there. He settled back into his pillows, pulling Cas down with him, back into a close embrace.

“Your feet are cold,” Cas complained, as they rubbed against his legs. Dean chuckled dryly.

“Someone kept stealing the covers last night.”

Cas grumbled wordlessly into Dean’s shoulder, his eyes falling closed once more.

“Sorry,” he murmured, finally. Dean smiled softly, and let his eyes fall closed, too. Cas was a warm weight against his side, a weight he wanted to carry forever.

Maybe - maybe they would be alright. Maybe they could love each other through the little things.

Maybe the best was yet to come.


End file.
